Chapter Text
“Are you writing one of those poem things again?”
“My business does not concern you. Now, shut your trap before your days are numbered,” you growl, instinctively ready to grab the handle of your blade but then remember it isn’t…
The Completely Unfazed Frisk who asked that question in the first place, sarcastically chirped in response,“Woah, is that a new record, Chara? 30 minutes in the same room as me without threats, woo-hoo! We’re makin’ progress!”
You were supposed to be reading a new novel, but that nincompoop’s presence just distracts you all the time. You awkwardly shift your head to look in every direction just to avoid that awful sun-beaming smirk. You know, you never bothered to observe your new living space ever since you arrived screaming and clawing at the walls. Now, your spirits mostly died down, no longer having power or the will to move on. If only that imbecile, Frisk, had not given you their determination to latch on… Whatever, the walls look visually appealing anyway.
Distancing yourself away from Frisk on the couch as much as possible, you began to ponder, like you always did. Unless Frisk intrudes in your space again, it’s inevitable, enjoy your time while you can. Though it has been a year since your revival or more accurately reanimation, you still feel uneasy around other people, especially Frisk. Speaking of which, you have been in quarantine throughout the entire year. “Rehabilitation” they called it. Probably at the fact that you have no empathy, no love and no compassion, the whole schtick. That scares people… or most people that weren’t Frisk or Toriel.
Though, you are quite unknowledgeable on the projection of your new magical form, all you are aware of is that you woke up one day. Who could have done it? How did it happen? Why are you back…? Do you deserve to be back?
Not even you could answer.
For the past year, Toriel had taken you in (again) and home-schooled you as well as Frisk. Honestly, you feel guilty for holding them back. Frisk would be ecstatic to attend public school but can’t without keeping watch on you, Toriel would love to teach more students but does not have time for a teaching degree because of you. The ever-so cordial Frisk however, never seemed bothered by this. No matter how much you threaten, curse or insult, they still kept that idiotic adamant expression. You grit your teeth, fold your arms and pout your lips just thinking about it.
Of course, Frisk notices and teases, “Hey, you stopped cursing and swearing at least!”
“Surely I did, the swears I let out were immature and childish. I am not 12 anymore,” you condescendingly reply, turning your head to face the other way. A wave of irritation crashes into you again, this is a common occurrence within the radius of Frisk.
Frisk leaves from their sitting position and flops themselves onto the couch, stretching and spreading their limbs as much as possible. You flinch the second they nearly come into contact with you, they were just a grain away before they stopped. Good. They definitely wouldn’t have seen another day no matter what Mother said. The first time Frisk tried to touch you by hugging, you exploded into a ball of thorns. A year ago you would rather have ripped your guts out than let Frisk get this close to you, I guess what they claimed was “exposure therapy” worked.
Suddenly, Frisk twisted their body to face you with their belly laying on the couch, kicking their legs back and forth. Oh, they’re about to ask you something again.
Before they could utter a word, your head takes a sharp 90 degrees turn to face them and shut your book with a booming sound. You sternly respond with a menacing tone, “What. Do. You. Want. This Time.” You make sure you’re doing your creepiest smile, that one ear-to-ear grin that always terrified Asriel and even yourself sometimes. To your surprise and pleasure, Frisk actually looked taken aback, their usually shut tight eyelids opening a minute bit. However, their face quickly morphed into fascination, the type you’d see on a kid who saw a wishing star for the first time.
With their pupils as big as saucers and mouth open agape, they meekly pipe up, “Anyone ever told you smiles suit you? You should do them more often grumpy-face! Oh right, small thing!”
Before you could properly process their utterances, with a swift swoosh, they grasped your hand and pulled you up. Another characteristic you despise about them is the expeditious speed they harbour. Dragging your weightless (new development) body on its feet, they barge open the door, just to abruptly stop at the frame. That stop completely threw you off balance and your body flails like a headless chicken. To your absolute dismay, Frisk chuckles at that, oh how far you’ve fallen.
“Goat mom! Chara and I are heading out for a walk,” they abrasively beseech, clutching the door frame with their vice-like grip… reminds you of roots. That nickname still prompts you to feel an iota of annoyance, you realise how meaningless it was to feel that way though.
Toriel rushes towards the door in her own modest way of running… you always thought that looked silly. “Oh my, this late dears? Well… please ensure you both will be safe on your own and to shower after you’re done,”Her expression seems contemplative and nervous, but quickly it softened as she insists on your departure, shooing you away with her hands. You wished she could have taken a closer look at your discomfort and saved you… but you know it’s to no avail at this point. She would’ve forced you to have bonding time with Frisk anyway, you sigh.
Dragged out of the house for the first time in a while, you take in the fresh air that is your street’s neighbourhood. You were too tired to complain or resist so all you could do was watch. Scanning your environment, you acknowledge the maroon-red tree nearby, just barely visible in the moonlight. Across the street lied Grillbys with their smorgasbord of lazy fast food, perfect for loafing idiots such as sans and Frisk.
The myriad of colourful houses spread across the pavement look as though they were directly ripped off from the underground. Usually you would expect these distinct and different colours to mesh together into a disgusting brown, though mysteriously, they suited each other perfectly like a big completed puzzle. Monsters are so interesting, aren’t they? Despite the fact that they’re all so unique and unlike one another, they manage to mix together perfectly. If only humans were the same case.
Unfortunately you were snapped out of your whirlwind of thoughts by the sounds of merriment echoing through the jet-black night sky, you let out inchoate grumbles and pursed your lips. Who else could they have come from other than the ambassador of monsterkind, Frisk? The usual huzz and buzz of Surface Home, the new city, could only be successfully overthrown by the incessant child-like giggling, bubbling from Frisk’s mouth in the pin-drop silent ambience. Despite that one noise polluter, the near silence helps you to appreciate the city better. It’s been 2 years and already it’s a cut above your home village.
After a fruitless hour of supposed “walking”, they haul you off track. It was only until you heard the chirping of crickets reverberating through the moist grass did you realise where Frisk had heaved you to. The hill on the right-most of Surface Home, barely within view of the central, furthest away from Mt. Ebott… clearly they understood you to a certain degree. It was only until they stopped dead in their tracks yet again did you nudge them in the arm. Thankfully, they picked up the signal and released your hand from theirs.
With their back facing you and standing on top of the hill, Frisk mumbles,“Isn’t this nice, Chara?” There was a tint of sincerity in their voice… they only ever mumbled alone with you. The typical high-pitched, superficial voice, replaced with an earnest, solemn tone.
On top of the hill, you feel triumphant and above everyone else, feelings that almost instantly withered into wisps of smoke. “Yes, I suppose it… isn’t that bad,” you reply, not tinted with animosity this time. Frisk shifts their head to gaze at you, moonbeams shining onto their face to give an almost dazzling sight.
Then, they smiled.
For even just a faint moment, you felt contented. You made them feel happy, like genuine joy, authentic gaiety. Are you still capable of that?
Still left in rooted the ground, you look over to Frisk as they had left their place and danced around patches of violet, red and white. You could recognise those flowers from the books you had read. They all have their own special meaning from old times as you heard. Hyacinths (violet) represent devotion and playfulness, its meaning derived from the Greek myth of a tragic youthful hero, Hyakinthos. Dandelions (white) tell a story of resilience and hope, or a method to make a wish come through. Frisk skipped and circled in a constant motion around them with the toothiest smile.
Eventually, they stop and pick up a flower from its flowerbed, it seems to be another you also recognise, a carnation. Neatly plucked from the ground, the carnation is dark red, its petals still covered in dewdrops. From what you’ve read, that colour represents a beating heart. Some say it also signifies admiration and appreciation or even passionate love more intense than red roses for the recipient when gifted.
Then, they pass it to you, holding their hand out.
What are they implying… Why would they ever— Your cheeks go red at the thought of it. No, no. Of course they don’t know its meaning, they’re just attempting an act of friendship. Part of you wants to scoff and knock it out of their hand, another wants to rip off its petals one-by-one, the last one…
You accept the offer.
You gingerly caress its petals with your thumb and tilt it side-ways, counting each dew drop that slid off. They meant it, They meant it not, They meant it, They meant it no- this “counting” rang through your mind, though you dismiss them quickly, not like you’d ever accept the answer anyway. Still with that satisfied mind-numbing smile aimed specifically at you, they shift their body as stiffly as a robot would faced the horizon. They release a puff of air which was then closely followed by a breeze sending their hair flowing seamlessly with the wind.
In a sudden gust of wind and grass blades, Frisk plopped themselves on the ground. Sitting criss-crossed style, they stare into the distance, admiring the view. For some peculiar reason, you felt like joining in and squatted next to them. Social instincts, I guess. Or maybe— You shut that one thought down quite easily. You raise your chin to peer into the night sky and, suddenly for the first time in a while, you feel safe again. That’s funny.
That’s a human. Right next to you. Nonetheless, a cowardly one.
Snorting manically to yourself at the irony, you stare at the glamorous night-sky. With wind blowing in your hair, your eyes dazzle at the minuscule stars twinkling against the darkness. It reminds you of monsters in a way. The stars and moon manage to overpower any void while providing us with a spectacle and warmth.
After a long period of utter silence, Frisk politely mutters, “Should we go now?”
Turning your head to face them, you lock your pupils directly on them, expressionless. Dumb human. Frisk awkwardly waits for a response, fiddling with their fingers, puffing their cheeks. Their cheeks… look so soft and warm. I want to hurt them, I want to squeeze those cheeks until they burst. I want to make sure they get the message so they’ll stop trying and I can just rot. I’ll have to settle it once and for all.
A little less than gracefully, your hands lunged and cupped their cheeks tightly. You hurriedly grab onto their face and ram your forehead onto theirs. The knock back sent agonising pain which is utterly surprising, you thought it was hollow in there. You could feel your eyes swirling and stars circling around your head like a halo. Still, you both keep your heads steady and in place while breathing down on each other’s necks.
For the first time and hopefully not the last, Frisk let out a gasp of disbelief, their eyes fully open.
Focused and head-steady on your target, you whisper while taking deep breaths, “I really, really fu-freakin’ hate you.” A loud shriek in your chest cried out.
You know, you never really thought more of their weirdly coloured eyes, now fully awake and blinking. Bright-blue. They pierce into your soul and look through you. Unfortunately, they look dazzling under light from the moon.
After a long pause, Frisk recovers. “You—Hah! Ha,” they burst into laughter, with their hand on their stomach, breaking the unspoken tension. They were now lying on their back, wheezing on the floor. I hate this. Wiping tears in their eyes, they pull themselves back up to address you, “I hate you too!” Unlike your earlier fantastic performance, their words were cheeky and playful, tinted with a hint of fondness. This prompts you to scowl.
“If you even dare squeak a word about this to anyone else, I swear on the Angel that you will never see the light of day again,” You threaten, definitely not ominous anymore. “Well, I swear on the Angel too! This has been fun but It’s getting late, let’s go back home before goat mom worries,” they chuckle, now back to their usual solemn closed eyes.
“Fine,” you grumble with your most sour expression.